


Eternitystuck: Scratch Royale

by VileKaizer (Wribo)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Death, Gen, Mind Manipulation, Murder, Sacrifice, Trapped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-15 22:49:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18678904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wribo/pseuds/VileKaizer
Summary: They all had their problems growing up, but those pale in comparison to what they will each experience in The Doctor's manor. Let the games begin. Haa haa. Hee hee. Hoo hoo.





	1. The Good Doctor

It started as an experiment.

 

Loneliness was such a cruel thing, as the formerly solitary resident of Felt Manor learned after decades. Centuries. Millenia. A blank countenance hid behind it a burning far greater than most could fathom. Though the Doctor's white suit remained stainless; perfect, his vast mind had developed into something quite the opposite. Some would say the experience of isolation thrust upon him by his master had turned the cue ball headed being's soul into something kindred to the pitchest tar. He preferred to make greater note of its likeness to a black hole.

 

Eventually, he would bring his first guest in. A shy lass, undoubtedly confused and aghast from being quite literally plucked from her own world to someplace far more green. Where she was used to hunting her own food, her every whim was now catered to at utmost haste. One could say Doc Scratch had become quite obsessed with this newfound companion. After all, she was the first creature he had ever seen in person other than his master.

 

Though there was one thing he claimed unable to provide to her:

 

A way home.

 

The Doctor made up a ridiculous tale of how he and his own power had nothing to do with the troll woman being brought here. But he would care for her. He promised it. He wanted nothing more than to keep her satisfied here, to make her eternity as comfortable as possible. But most importantly, he blamed her abduction on his master. A false claim which would echo throughout all of Paradox Space until finally shaking the beast from its slumber a century later.

 

He took her from Scratch as punishment.

 

Where the Disciple once sat, was but a pile of ash.

 

And Lord English made sure that she knew of this deceit before her demise. He would curse his pawn to bring more here. Lie to them as he had lied to her. And each century that would pass, the great beast would return to claim his damnable offering.

 

His would be an eternal debt.

 

After several cycles of this, Doc Scratch was forever changed. He no longer longed for companionship, but for this limbo of madness to cease. With no end in sight, however, his contempt for those he brought grew. Why should he tend to their needs and desires? What worth had they to him but as yet another ribbon to hang upon English's ego? While a permanent solution seemed forever out of his grasp, he could at least make things more interesting for himself.

 

Thus, the trials began. Instead of bringing one, the Doctor transported many to his prison at once. Humans and trolls of various mindsets and physical prowess, all told a greater lie than his first:

 

**"You will fight for your freedom. Haa haa."**

 

 


	2. The Butler

The rules were simple. Rounds would be held, a sort of pseudo-invincibility placed upon his guests. All but the first to die in each round would simply be 'respawned' within their assigned bedrooms, a new scar the only sign that they had ever participated in this bloodsport. The winner of each round would receive a token of their host's esteem, usually a new weapon or another such item which would give them an advantage in the coming rounds.

 

The first set of games went swimmingly from the start. Those he brought to his manner were quick to accept their fate, most eager to fight and prove that they were the strongest here. There were exceptions, as there were bound to be in such an environment, but, to the doctor's surprise, it would be one of these few who wished not to participate who would come out victorious in the end. However, this would only come to pass as another of them had done something unspeakable.

 

The black haired, dapper youth refused to kill one of his friends, regardless of the fact that they were from a timeline other than his own. Instead, he would turn his gun on himself, taking his own life. Now, this normally wouldn't have been an issue. There was no rule explicitly stating that contestants couldn't commit suicide. Doc Scratch was not having it though. He would not be denied a climactic battle before his grand reveal, and so, as Lord English returned to the manor once more the mad guardian made a request of his master to punish this _cheater_.

  
His offering sated, the beast grew amused at this attempt to make things more interesting. It was settled. Jake English would be born anew, his spirit trapped here just as Scratch was. And he would be bound to servitude, just as the one who brought him here was.

 

A butler of a pawn, he was made. Felt suit and lime-green skin marked him for what he was, so that all may know his tale:

 

**The tale of one who cheated fate.**

 

 


	3. The Thresh Prince

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Karkat Vantas sat in his bedroom, staring blankly at his computer screen for several moments before making an expression which would have made anyone else think his head would soon fly clear from his shoulders in rage. Typing rapid responses onto his keyboard, a string of curses left his pale lips, black hair standing on end. The troll's yellow eyes lidded as he finished messaging his group of 'friends,' and he slid down into his chair.

 

As it spun slowly, his stare fell upon the Thresh Prince poster that hung on his wall. Things were changing all too fast.

 

Little did he know they would only begin to change even faster.

 

A flash of blinding green light enveloped the Alternian, and in an instant he found himself seated amongst a sea of strangers within what appeared to be a dining hall. A string of expletives escaped his lips, arms flailing in shock, which brought a string of snickers from those around him and a monotone chuckle from the one seated at the head of the table.

 

"Welcome, Mr. Vantas," Doc Scratch rose from his seat and gave an apologetic wave of the hand, his gloved fingers closing into a fist which he slowly brought across his abdomen in a bow, "my apologies for the abrupt change of scenery, I found myself one short of the festivities to commence."

 

"Festivities?" The troll looked around, eyes widening as he noticed the assortment of foods placed before himself and the other guests.

 

"Of course, I wouldn't have brought you all here without reason," the doctor fanned his hands dramatically as if to give praise to a spectacle all his own, but was cut short by the masked individual to his left.

 

"Can you just tell us why we're here already? I'm getting bored." His voice was obviously being changed by some sort of technology within the black mask he wore. It fell upon the ears awkwardly, a gravelly tone marked by sparks and static clicks between each word.

 

"As you wish," Scratch coughed into his fist, "You see, it was not of my design that you all be brought here, oh my no. Such would be unsavory."

 

"So you're saying you aren't in control here?" Karkat rolled his eyes, "Great, and here I thought our host had whatever this shit is planned out."

 

"Oh, it's planned out brilliantly; perfectly even. I assure you all will go off without a hitch, so to speak." The cue ball rumbled as he laughed heartily, "Regardless, no, it is of my master's design that you all were brought here. Some of you are well aware of him, or some version of him at least. Others of you not so much. I have brought you all here at the behest of Lord English."

 

The masked man stood up hurriedly, as did two of the pink skinned female creatures absolutely alien to Karkat. Bipeds without horns and grey skin? Blonde hair? They looked ridiculous, and their voices proved there were even more annoyances within their species.

 

"You said Lord English?" the shorter of the two squeeked, "Like, the big bad monster dude who's fuckin' everything up across the dream bubbles or whatev?"

 

"Indeed."

 

"Well it has been fun, but I do believe it was time I returned home." The taller blonde shook her head and looked around nervously, "Where may I ask would the exit be?"

 

"Ah, there is the caveat," Doc Scratch vocalized the distress the rest of the room was currently feeling, "There is no escape, I'm afraid. What's done is done, and there is only one way out."

 

Karkat's heart sank in his chest. They were trapped here? While an uproar of anger and fear erupted around him, he began to disassociate. He wanted to go home, or at least a part of him preferred Alternia and the stupid game he and his friends had been planning to play to whatever was going on here. The sound within this place became muffled nonsense as he crawled deeper and deeper within himself to escape it all. Until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

 

Looking over he saw a familiar face. Calm and collected, though anywhere else it would have made him sick to his stomach. Equius Zahhak was far higher on the hemospectrum than he was, though just how far the shorter of the two never let on. Feelings on envy and fear usually marked encounters between the two, but here things were different. Far different.

 

"No fear." The muscular troll gave an attempt at a grin, though his cracked teeth were far less than a comforting sight, "We will figure something out. We have the advantage of numbers."

 

Karkat nodded and swallowed dryly, hands shaking as he took a drink from the glass in front of him. The water was sweet. Far sweeter than this place deserved.

 

"Are we quite done with freaking out? May I continue?" Scratch shook his head disappointedly, "There is a way home, but just for one of you."

 

"Just one?" Equius folded his arms, looking upon their host with distrust, "Explain."

 

"You will fight for your freedom." The group looked on in shock as the pale, green-skinned butler who had begun to collect the dishes which had become broken and scattered in their outcry spoke up, "Oh, pardon. I did not mean to interrupt. Go on, sir." Jake English gave an apologetic bow and continued with his work.

 

"Jakey?" The younger blonde jumped out of her seat, and ran to him, though she wasn't met with any sort of warm welcome as she had first expected. "Jake, it's me! Roxy!"

 

"Ms. Lalonde, please seat yourself and leave my staff be. That boy is not the Jake English you know." The doctor coughed once more and continued on, "Yes, as my butler has explained, you will do battle with one another in rounds."

 

As he explained the rules in detail, a taller troll waved to Karkat and Equius, beckoning them to move to his side. He was a stranger, yet there was something very familiar about him. He looked a lot like Tavros Nitram, one of their friends, though far more certain of himself. Not a shred of shyness to him. He looked strong and sure.

 

"Yes, Summoner?" Equius asked, instantly causing Karkat to realize why he looked so familiar. This was the leader of a failed revolution against the highbloods, though there was something off in regards to his physical structure. Didn't the Summoner have wings? Mindfang's journal detailed him as such, though this version of him may be completely different given the pink-skin's reaction and the explanation given to her earlier.

 

"You children have no plans of going along with this madman's game, correct?"

 

The two nodded in response, sitting down hurriedly.

 

"Good. I will investigate this place and try to come up with a plan. Do not fret."

 

"A plan? A plan to escape an inescapable shipwreck like this? Doubt it." A troll girl sitting across from them kicked her feet up upon the table and crossed her arms, "Glubbin' pointless, we should just accept that all but one of us are gonna die."

 

"Hey, hear him out. Anything's better than just waiting to get merc'd, right?" Another of the pink-skins, this one appearing to be older than the others given the facial hair sprouting from his chin, leaned forward, his eyes hidden behind dark shades. He presented a hand to the Summoner, who shook it in turn, "Dave Strider."

 

"And I'm Dirk." Another of them waved from beside Dave, this one's shades far pointier, but just as black, "Pleasure to meet you and all that. Or it would be under better circumstances."

 

"Good to know there are friends to be found here," the Summoner smiled before giving a worried look at their host who still seemed invested in giving a thorough rundown of the rules to his macabre game, "Should you find out anything between these rounds, assuming survival, I hope you will share the information readily."

 

"Of course." The elder Strider smirked, "What are friends for?"


End file.
